Oh Tannenbaum
by tutncleo
Summary: Tony goes in search of a Christmas tree, and finds an even greater Christmas gift. This story is preslash, so please don't read if that isn't your thing.


**Oh Tannenbaum**

"_Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light. From now on our troubles will be out of sight. Have yourself a merry little Christmas…" _

Tony sang along with the radio as he drove through the countryside. It was Wednesday, December 23, and almost night, but he was going to get a Christmas tree, even if it meant chopping it down in the dark. Vance had sent the team home early; they were off for the next four days, and by three o'clock they weren't really getting any work done. Gibbs had been in a hurry to shuffle his dad out of the bullpen, Abby was itching to get to the airport, and McGee had already fielded five phone calls from his overanxious family. Even Ziva, who didn't celebrate Christmas, was biting at the bit to start her long weekend, having made plans with a couple of friends to spend the weekend at some spa. When Vance had come downstairs, Jackson Gibbs, who'd been sitting at Gibbs' desk, had pointed out that no one was doing anything productive, and Vance had surprised them all by laughing in agreement, wishing them a happy holiday, and telling them all to get gone fast, before he changed his mind. No one had needed to be told twice.

"_He sees you when you're sleeping. He knows when you're awake. He knows if you've been good or bad, so be good, for goodness sake…." _When they had been cut loose, Tony had just finished reading about a tree farm thirty miles outside of town, where you could go to choose your own tree, and with their help, cut it down. Tony had never done anything like that, and even though he was spending Christmas alone, he'd decided that he was going to go get a tree. He'd spent too many Christmases feeling sorry for himself, and this year he had decided he was going be merry, even if it killed him. He'd cut down the tree, and stop at Wal-Mart on his way back into town to buy some ornaments for it. Then, in his quest for a festive weekend, he'd stop at the liquor store and buy himself some peppermint schnapps to add to hot chocolate, which he would drink while decorating his tree. He had lots to be thankful for, he told himself, as he drove, mindlessly singing along with the radio. He had a great job, worked with good people (even though he teased McGee and Ziva mercilessly), made enough money to keep himself decked out in designer clothes, had most of his hair, wasn't turning grey (he pushed away the thought of how sexy he found silver hair), was in great shape, could still get a date with just about anyone he wanted (even though there was one notable exception) …. The list could go on and on he assured himself.

"_Ev'rybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe help to make the season bright …" _Green Acres Farm, the sign read. Not the most original name, Tony thought as he steered his car off of the country road and onto the long gravel drive. When he parked outside the large red barn festooned in pine garlands, a man decked out in a plaid insulated vest, jeans, a stocking cap, and knee high lace up boots came bustling out. "You got here just in time, young fellow," the man said. Tony hid a smile; he was sure the man wasn't more than ten years older than him. "I figured no one else would be coming today, and was just about to call it a day and go in and sit down by the fire."

"I just got off work," Tony explained, "and was hoping you would still be open."

"The Christmas elves are smiling on you today," the man told him. "The names Bill. What can I help you with? Are you after a tree, tonight?"

"Yes sir," Tony answered. "My name is Tony. I'm looking for something that will work in an apartment."

The man nodded. "Good to meet you, Tony," he said, extending his hand. As he shook Tony's hand vigorously, he carried on, "I know just the tree for you. Let me grab an axe and saw and then I'll take you out and we can have a look at it." Not waiting for Tony to reply, he turned on his heels and headed back into the barn. Minutes later he reemerged, dragging a toboggan on which sat some rope, a couple of different sized saws, an enormous flashlight, and a large red axe. "Glad for the snow we got the other day. Being able to use this here toboggan makes dragging the trees back here a hell of a lot easier. Want to show you this pretty little douglas fir I've got. If you don't like it, we can look at some other options."

"That'd be great," Tony enthused, as he scrambled to follow the man as he turned and headed out to the woods beside the barn, dragging the sled behind him.

"You ever done this before?" Bill called over his shoulder.

"Nope, I decided to try something different this year," Tony shouted up to the man as he buttoned up his coat and pulled his black leather gloves out of his pocket to protect his freezing hands. Bill had stopped to allow Tony to catch up to him. He watched as Tony slid on the gloves, then glanced down at Tony's feet, which were clad in his favorite Italian leather brogues, although he gracefully refrained from commenting on the inappropriateness of Tony's attire for tromping in the woods, for which Tony was grateful. He hadn't planned on this when he'd gotten ready for work that morning.

When Tony had come even with him, Bill asked, "Gonna surprise the little lady with a fresh tree?"

"Something like that," Tony answered, embarrassed to admit that he was the only one who was going to see the tree.

"Well, think you're going to score big points," Bill observed. "Come on, the tree I want you to look at is just a little ways further."

An hour later, his feet and legs wet and freezing cold, and his leather gloves a little worse for wear, Tony was back in his car, a five foot tall douglas fir strapped securely to the roof. He honked a friendly farewell to Bill as he pulled out. It was now dark out and the temperature seemed to have dropped another ten degrees. Tony switched the radio back on as he turned on to the country road.

"_Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? In the lane, snow is glistening. A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight, walking in a winter wonderland…" _It really was a winter wonderland, Tony realized as he drove along the lane, the moon shining on the snow that blanketed the fields that surrounded him on both sides, lending beauty to what would otherwise appear barren. He could hear the tree scraping along the roof, as it shifted slightly as the car bounced along the road. He had gone about five miles when suddenly something off to the side of the road caught his eye. He had just registered on what it was, and had just started to react, when suddenly the car had veered off the road and into the deep ditch next to the road, a huge buck was resting on the hood of his car. The deer wasn't dead, and as Tony tried to get his bearings, the deer kicked violently, shattering the windshield and whopping Tony in the head with a hoof. As he lost consciousness, he could hear, _"these are a few of my favorite things."_

"Hey mister, can you hear me?" Tony groggily heard. "Mister? Are you okay?" Tony blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his vision. Everything was fuzzy, and the voice seemed to be coming from a mile away.

"M'kay," he mumbled.

"Looks like you bagged yourself an eight point buck," the unseen man called into the window, "although maybe not in the best way. It's easier with a gun."

Tony wanted to say something about being an armed federal agent, but it was just too hard to form words.

"Do you need me to call an ambulance?" the man asked, when Tony didn't say anything.

"NO! No, just give me a sec," Tony managed to say. He was having a hard time catching his breath, and he suspected he might have cracked a rib or two when the car plowed off the road and into the ditch.

"Let me help you out of there," Tony heard the man say, as his car door was opened. "You're gonna need a tow truck. That car is pretty much trashed. I got a truck here. I can give you a ride somewhere, if you want to call someone to come pick you up." Tony felt hands reach over him and unbuckle his seat belt. "You got a mighty bad gash on your forehead, mister. You sure you don't need an ambulance?"

"No hospital. Just give me a hand." Tony tried to push himself upright and finally got a look at the man. He had apparently been rescued by Santa Claus. The man who was hovering above him had a bushy snow white beard and a full head of white fluffy hair, and his cheeks and nose were rosy red from the cold.

"Easy now. I got you," Santa said, as he hooked his hands under Tony's arms and helped Tony slide out of the car. Once Tony was out and standing with the aid of his rescuer, he was able to survey the damage. The front end of his new car was completely smashed in, and the buck was stretched out partially on the hood, and partially dangling over the side. The car was most likely finished, he figured, and he idly wondered why he couldn't keep a Mustang in one piece. The Christmas tree had slipped, and was dangling over the passenger side of the car, still held up by the ropes that bound it. "You got someone you can call?" the man asked again.

"Yeah, but I'll just call a car service," Tony answered. Then, for some inexplicable reason, he felt a desperate need to rescue the tree. "Can you help me with this tree?" he asked, as he lurched towards the car. Everything was spinning again, and he was having a hard time staying upright.

"Hey mister, you need to sit down," Santa said, as he reached out and steadied Tony. "My truck's right over here," he said, giving Tony a little tug. "Let's get you in the cab and then I'll grab the tree and throw it in the back."

Tony didn't have the energy to argue and allowed himself to be led over to the truck. His head was beginning to throb in counterpoint to the ache coming from his ribs. Once he was tucked away on the bench seat of the truck, and had some kind of rag pressed against the cut on his head, the man turned the ignition on and cranked up the heater. "You stay here. Won't take me but a sec to get that tree off of your car. Don't want you to go treeless on Christmas. You must have been over to the Green Acres. Bill's a good guy. I get my tree …." He said more, but Tony's ears were ringing and he was having trouble following him as he slipped into sleep.

Tony woke up to the man talking to him again. "Hey Tony. Wake up, we're here." Tony blinked. He didn't remember telling Santa his name, but clearly he must have, and he had no idea where "here" was. Tony wondered for a moment what the man's real name was, but couldn't make himself ask. "Let's get you into the house, and the Mrs. will clean up that cut on your head. She used to be a nurse, so she'll be able to say what's what."

Tony tried to formulate an answer, but just keeping his eyes open seemed to take all the energy he had, now that the adrenaline rush, caused from realizing that he'd been in an accident, had ebbed. He didn't wonder what was wrong with him. He'd had enough concussions over the years to recognize the symptoms. The journey into the house happened in a painful haze, and before he knew it, he was sitting in an overstuffed chair, in front of a blazing fire. Mrs. Claus, or Emma, as the man referred to her, was a plump friendly elderly woman, who seemed to be enjoying having someone to fuss over. Before he knew it, she had a pan of warm soapy water and a scrub rag, and was gently cleaning off his face.

"That buck got you good," she tsked, as she dabbed away at his face. "You could probably do with a few stitches, but it isn't completely necessary. You've got a terrible goose egg on your forehead, and I'm sure you have a concussion. Thomas is getting a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer, and we'll try and get some of the swelling down. Are you seeing double?" she asked him.

Tony started to shake his head, but the movement proved to be too painful. "Nah," he managed to answer. "Not a bad concussion," he tried to assure her.

"You're an expert?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow and surveying him carefully.

"I've had a few," he muttered, and let his eyes close again. He knew he should fish out his phone and call the car service, but decided he could wait just a bit, until the dizziness eased up somewhat.

"Then you know that you should see a doctor," she said, at the same time something ice cold was pressed against his face. Tony's eyes flew back open in time to see her smirk at him. And he'd thought she was such a sweet old woman, he thought as he looked at her. Clearly he'd been wrong; the woman had a sadistic streak! "I know it's cold, but if we don't get something on that bump you're going to be quite a sight come Christmas morning. You just lie back in that chair for a little while and hold this in place," she said, reaching down and guiding Tony's hand up to the bag of frozen peas. "If I made you a cup of coco, do you think you could drink it?"

"That would be amazing," Tony told her. Once she had bustled off to the kitchen, the heat from the fire began to warm his freezing feet, and the chill from the peas started to combat the blinding headache. Before he knew it, he was asleep again.

"DiNozzo, what in the hell did you get yourself into?" Gibbs snapped.

Gibbs?!? God, he was dreaming about Gibbs again, Tony thought.

"Tony, can you hear me?" Gibbs asked again, this time a little louder.

"I hear you, you don't need to yell," Tony told Gibbs in his dream.

"Open your eyes then," Dream Gibbs said.

"Huh?" Tony said. Why would Gibbs want him to open his eyes if he was dreaming. "Don't want to. If I open my eyes, you'll go away. It happens every time I dream about you. That's the way dreams work," Tony tried to explain to Dream Gibbs, wondering how the man could be so dense. After all, he was the one with a concussion, and even he knew that.

"Tony, you're not dreaming," Dream Gibbs said. "You're sitting in Thomas and Emma Davidson's living room, on a farm in the middle of nowhere.

Wait a second, Tony told himself. Not dreaming? Then that would mean that Gibbs was really there. How was that possible? Tony cracked on eye open and peaked out. Sure enough, Gibbs was crouched down in front of him, wearing his down filled parka which was glistening with melting snow. Tony slammed his eye shut again. Christ, what had he said out loud? Maybe he could just pretend he was still asleep. Even better, maybe when he opened his eyes again, he would discover he really had been asleep, and this was all just a concussion induced nightmare.

"Tony, come on. Look at me," Gibbs said again. What was really weird to Tony, was the fact that Gibbs sounded worried. "Damn it, Tony, why do these things keep happening to you?" Tony heard Gibbs mutter. He was still trying to process all that, when he felt a hand touch his cheek. Tony let his eyes open. Gibbs was still there, blurry, but there, and it was his hand on Tony's face! "That's good," Gibbs encouraged. "Emma says you've been asleep for the last hour and a half. She also says you have a concussion." Gibbs was looking at him intently, and even without being able to see clearly, Tony could tell that there was more than just concern written across Gibbs' face. He was looking at Tony with an almost calculating expression, and there was an unspoken question in his eyes. Tony wanted to close his eyes again, but knew there wasn't much point. What had been said, was said. Maybe Gibbs would just chalk it up to confusion caused by the concussion and let the whole thing drop. Surely he wouldn't fire someone two days before Christmas. "M'fine. What are you doing here?" he finally managed to ask.

"Yeah, I can see how fine you are. And I'm here because Thomas called me," Gibbs answered, still looking at Tony with that expression that Tony couldn't quite interpret.

Tony was confused. "You know Santa?" he asked.

"What?" Whatever Gibbs had been thinking had been completely erased by worry. "Tony, do you know where you are?" When Gibbs removed his hand, Tony wasn't prepared for the sense of loss he experienced.

"Santa," Tony tried to explain. What had Gibbs called the man? "Thomas, looks like Santa. I didn't know his name. How did he know to call you?"

"Ah," Gibbs said, clearly relieved that Tony wasn't completely delirious. "Apparently you have me listed as your emergency contact on the information card in your wallet. When they couldn't wake you up, they took your wallet out of your pocket and looked for more information about you. I convinced them not to call an ambulance, and said I'd come get you. I had to promise them I'd take you to a doctor, so its lucky that Ducky's over at my place visiting with my father."

"I'm okay," Tony tried to assure Gibbs. "The sleep made everything better."

"Everything?" Gibbs asked sharply. "You have something else wrong besides the gash and the concussion?"

Damn it, Tony silently cursed. That man never missed anything. Tony sighed; there wasn't much point in lying; now that he knew to be on the alert, Gibbs wouldn't buy it. "I banged my ribs in the crash. May have bruised them," he allowed.

"Bruised or cracked?" Gibbs demanded, knowing that even though Tony made a big deal out of little things, he had a bad habit of downplaying real injuries. Whatever else he was going to say was interrupted by the return of Thomas and Emma.

"Oh good, you're awake," Emma said. "Let me go get you another cup of coco. The first one got cold while you were sleeping, and I dumped it out."

"That's not necessary," Tony quickly said. "It's very kind of you, but now that Gibbs is here I'll be getting out of your hair."

"Don't be ridiculous," Thomas said. "Let Emma get you the coco. The hot drink will do you good. It's going to take some time for me and Gibbs to transfer the tree to his car, anyway."

"Tree?" Gibbs asked.

"Christmas tree," Thomas clarified. "Tony had been down to the Green Acres to cut himself a tree, right before he got himself that deer."

"Cutting down trees and deer hunting, all in one night?" Gibbs asked Tony, clearly amused. "I didn't realize you were such a mountain man. You know, deer hunting season is over, Tony. As a federal agent I should probably arrest you."

"Very funny, Boss," Tony muttered, as the others all laughed.

"You drink that coco. I guess Thomas and I will go get your tree." Gibbs stood up and followed the older man out of the room.

"So, Gibbs is your boss?" Emma asked, when she came back into the room, carrying two mugs of hot coco. Tony nodded as he accepted one of the cups from her. "It was mighty nice of him to come out here to rescue you."

"Never leave a man behind," Tony answered her.

"The Marine motto," Emma commented, as she eased herself down into the chair across from Tony. "I take it Gibbs was a Marine?"

"Once a Marine…" Tony began.

"Always a Marine," Emma ended, laughing warmly. "I know, Thomas is a Marine, too. I bet it won't take them long to figure that out. By the time they get back in, they should be fast friends. Still, Gibbs must be pretty special. Most people wouldn't list their boss as their emergency contact," she observed shrewdly, as she blew cool air over the top of her steaming hot coco.

Tony took a sip of the hot drink, allowing himself a moment to savor the rich, creamy chocolate as he contemplated how to answer her. A little truth, a little deflection, that was the ticket; it always seemed to work for him. "I don't have any family around here. The first month I worked for NCIS I got hurt. My first concussion actually," he told her with a grin. "I was unconscious, and the hospital had trouble getting hold of anyone from my family ,to give consent for a surgery, so after that, Gibbs insisted that I list him as my medical emergency contact. By now it's just become a habit. I didn't even think about it when I filled out the information card for my wallet."

"He doesn't seem to mind. Thomas said he was quite concerned when he talked to him on the phone," she told him.

"Gibbs is good people," Tony said.

"He's an extremely good looking man, too," she added.

"Yes, he is," Tony agreed automatically before he had a chance to censor himself. Emma just smirked at him.

"You are an evil woman," Tony told her. "And to think, when I first met you I thought you were Mrs. Santa Claus."

"I may be old, but I'm more naughty than nice, young man. I've lived a long time, and there is very little that shocks or bothers me. Life is too short to spend time hating people just because they aren't just like you." she told him. "Do you think I couldn't see the way you were looking at him when he and Thomas went outside? I'm not blind. I take it he doesn't have a clue?"

"He may have one now. I'm afraid I was confused when he first woke me up, and opened my big mouth without thinking about what I was saying." Emma smiled kindly at him.

"He didn't seem too bothered to me," she observed. "Why don't you take a piece of advice from an old lady. If you've already cracked the door open, go ahead and walk right through. Tell him how you feel about him. You might be surprised by his reaction. After all, this is the season for miracles."

"I'll think about it," Tony said, although he had no intention of doing any such thing. This was Gibbs they were talking about, the four times married Gibbs. He just hoped that Gibbs would forget about what he'd said, and they could carry on as usual. Tough boss, head slapping, retired Marine Gibbs belonged in his waking hours, and sexy, loving, hot Dream Gibbs needed to stay safely exiled to his sleep.

As it turned out, Emma had been right. Gibbs and Thomas were laughing when they came back into the room, and Thomas was busily engaged in telling Gibbs some amusing story about something that had happened when he'd been in the service. "Well Tony, I've got the tree strapped to the roof, and I've arranged to have your car towed back to my garage in the city, although Thomas says the insurance company is likely to declare it a total. Let's load you up and get out of Emma's and Thomas' hair," Gibbs said, as he walked over to where Tony was sitting.

"Don't forget you promised to have a doctor look him over," Emma reminded him.

"Not a problem. Have a top notched one at my house right now," Gibbs assured the elderly lady. "He's used to patching Tony up, but he'll also tell me if we need to make a trip to the ER."

"Make sure he tells you about whatever is wrong with his ribs, too," Emma said, proving once again that she missed very little.

"Yes Ma'am," Gibbs told her with a grin. Tony sat in the chair watching Gibbs. He loved it when the man smiled, although it always seemed to him as if Gibbs did it far too infrequently.

Thomas went to the hall closet and pulled out Tony's coat, while Gibbs helped him stand. Tony was horrified to discover that he'd stiffened up while he had been sitting there, and truly needed Gibbs' help. In the end, Gibbs even had to help him get his coat on, and he was more than embarrassed when Gibbs reached over and nonchalantly buttoned up his coat. Tony had wanted to object on the grounds that he wasn't three years old, but in actuality, he was so wiped out and dizzy from the short walk to the door, that he just gave in and let Gibbs tend to him. Tony managed to thank both Thomas and Emma profusely for their help, and before he knew it, he was safely tucked into Gibbs' car, and they were on their way back to the city.

They spoke very little on the trip back, partially because Gibbs had the radio on, turned to a station that was playing Christmas music, and partially because Tony fell asleep somewhere in the middle of the second verse of "Silent Night". One minute the radio was quietly playing, _"Silent night, holy night. Shepherd's quake at the sight",_ and the next, Gibbs was saying, "Tony, wake up. We're home."

When they got into the house Tony was amazed to discover that Gibbs actually had a Christmas tree set up in his living room. He knew he probably shouldn't be, after all, Jackson was there, visiting for the holidays, so obviously Christmas meant something to Gibbs. But still, a tree? Somehow he just couldn't picture Gibbs taking the time to decorate a tree. It was a reminder to him about how little he really knew about how Gibbs spent his off duty time. Ducky and Jackson had been in the living room, and they'd both jumped to their feet when Gibbs had steered Tony into the house.

"My dear boy," Ducky exclaimed, when he got a look at Tony. "Jethro called ahead and said he was bringing you here, but he neglected to mention just how beat up you were," and he fixed Gibbs with an accusing glare.

"Nothing to be gained by doing that," Gibbs defended himself. "You couldn't do anything about it until I got him here, anyway."

"Well, that's really not the point, Jethro," Ducky began to point out.

"It's my point, Duck," Gibbs stopped him. "Let's get Tony upstairs and then you can take a look at him."

"That chair would be fine," Tony objected, nodding his head towards a chair next to the couch.

"Nonsense. Jethro is right. You need to be lying down," Ducky countered.

"Seems like I've done nothing but sleep since the accident," Tony told the elderly doctor. "Once you give me a once over, if someone could just give me a ride back to my place, I'll let you all get back to whatever you were doing, before Gibbs had to fetch me." Tony was suddenly uncomfortable about the extent to which he'd imposed on his boss. Here was Gibbs' father, and his best friend, and Gibbs had been forced to leave them there alone, while he'd run out the Virginia countryside to bail his senior agent out of a jam.

"Don't be ridiculous," Jackson jumped into the argument. "You didn't put Leroy out at all, we were just sitting around playing cards. Going to get you was probably the most exciting thing to happen to Leroy all night long."

"You heard 'em, DiNozzo. That makes three against one. Let's go upstairs," Gibbs interjected, as he slung one of Tony's arms over his shoulder and carefully reached over to grab Tony's waist, being careful to avoid hitting his sore ribs.

"I could lie down on the couch, just as easily," Tony tried again.

"No can do. That's where my dad's sleeping," Gibbs told him as he steered Tony towards the stairs.

Tony gave up, and just allowed Gibbs to help him up. He wondered why Jackson was sleeping on the couch, but he discovered climbing the stairs, even with Gibbs' assistance, was taking too much effort to allow him to ask. Besides, it wasn't any of his business, he reminded himself. When they got to the top of the stairs, Tony was surprised when Gibbs walked them right past the guest room.

"Um Boss, where are we going?" he asked. "The guest room is back there."

"Not a guest room anymore. Turned it into a home gym a couple of months ago."

Tony realized with horror what that meant. He knew from the couple of times he'd stayed at Gibbs' house when he'd had trouble with his apartment, that the only other room down the hallway was Gibbs' bedroom. That had to be where they were headed. "Boss, " he started to object.

"Shut up, Tony," Gibbs told him, as he gave Tony a gentle tug into his room and led him to the bed, and helped him out of his suit jacket. "Go ahead and lie down. Ducky will be up here in a minute, and I'm sure he's gonna want to look at your ribs," and as if to prove his words true, Ducky and Jackson appeared in the doorway.

"Well, let's have a look at you," Ducky said as he walked into the room. "Jethro said you banged your head in the car crash. Is that how you got the cut?" he asked, as he studied Tony's face.

"No, that's from the deer's hoof," Tony explained.

"I beg your pardon?" Ducky asked in confusion. "The deer?"

Apparently Gibbs hadn't given Ducky all the details over the phone, Tony realized. "That's what caused the crash. This deer ran out in front of me, and I swerved. Unfortunately, for both my car and myself, I didn't miss him."

"Oh my," Ducky exclaimed. "I'll need to get some antibiotic cream on that right away. It should really have had stitches, but it's almost too late by now. I've got some butterfly bandages that should help hold the wound together," and he began open the medical bag he'd carried into the room with him. "That's quite a nasty bump you have on your forehead. I gather from Jethro you most likely have a concussion, as well. Have you experienced any nausea?" When Tony shook his head, he then asked, "Blurred or double vision? Disorientation?"

"Just some blurred vision," Tony supplied.

"He was disoriented when he woke up, too. Didn't seem to know whether he was awake or asleep," Gibbs supplied, fixing Tony with that weird look again; and any hope Tony had for Gibbs having forgotten what he'd said earlier flew right out the window.

"Yes, well, that does sound like you are slightly concussed, although I don't think it's too severe. I would assume you have quite the headache as well," and grunted in acknowledgement when Tony confirmed his suspicions with a small nod, although the bulk of his attention was focused on the cut on Tony's head, which he had just inspected, rubbed with cream, and was in the process of dressing. "You must promise me that you will let Jethro know if anything should change however, particularly if you start to feel nauseous."

"You need to check out his ribs, too," Gibbs instructed from where he was standing beside the bed, watching the proceedings, and he winced when Ducky opened up Tony's shirt and an angry ten inch bruise was revealed. "Damn it, Tony," he cursed, knowing just how much that had to hurt.

"Oh my," was Ducky's response to the bruising.

"I must have slammed into the steering wheel pretty hard," Tony said.

"Why didn't you tell me it was that bad?" Gibbs demanded to know.

"I didn't know," Tony defended himself. "Besides, it's like you told Ducky earlier. What were you going to do about it? It isn't really the kind of thing you can put a band aid on, and call all better." Gibbs looked for a moment like he was going to argue, but then he let it drop.

Ducky was gently probing at Tony's chest, trying not to hurt him as he felt the injured area. Finally he declared, "I don't think any of them are broken. Usually I'd wrap the area, but with bruising that extensive, I'm afraid I'd only increase your discomfort. Fortunately you're off for the next few days, so your ribcage will have some time to heal. Just refrain from doing anything too strenuous, although I doubt if you're in too much danger of doing such. I'll leave some pain pills for you, but what I'm really prescribing is a lot of sleep and rest. Jethro, you know the drill for concussions. Wake him up every few hours, just to make sure he isn't experiencing any new symptoms. It would be best if he spent the next couple of days primarily in bed. I had best be going, but if you have any concerns, feel free to call me at anytime during the night."

"I'll walk you out," Jackson volunteered, "while Leroy gets the boy some water so he can take one of those pills."

"Tony's not a boy," Gibbs objected, more out of habit rather than from any real irritation.

"When you get to be my age, almost everyone seems like a boy," Jackson told him. "Just you wait, you'll see what I mean eventually."

Gibbs just rolled his eyes, and headed for the en suite bathroom. When he got back out, after having filled the bathroom glass with water, Ducky and Jackson were gone.

"Let's get you out of those clothes and into something more comfortable, and then you can take the medicine," Gibbs told Tony.

"My kit was in my car," Tony said.

"I've got sweats, Tony," Gibbs said as he went over to the dresser against the wall, opened up a drawer and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

Tony didn't bother arguing, as he struggled to sit up, so he could get himself undressed. It wouldn't do any good, and he just didn't have the strength. Besides, maybe the less said, the better. He hadn't forgotten that Gibbs very clearly still remembered the stupid things he'd said back at Emma's and Thomas' house.

"Do you need me to help you stand up?" Gibbs asked, having returned to the side of the bed.

"No, I'm okay," Tony told him, although he had to bite his lower lip to keep from gasping from the pain, when he tried to get up off of the bed. Gibbs didn't wait for an invitation, he merely bent over, hooked a hand under Tony's arm, and helped him get up onto his feet.

Once standing, Tony fumbled with his belt, suddenly embarrassed to get undressed in front of Gibbs. He'd always fantasized about stripping down in Gibbs' bedroom, but never like this. In his dreams, he had always either pulled his clothes off in a rush so that he could get naked with Gibbs, or Gibbs had ripped his clothes off for him. He'd never imagined himself standing on legs that quivered due to pain and exhaustion, rather than passion, and he certainly hadn't dreamed about feeling awkward and self conscious. Then, to compound matters, his memories of his previous fantasies caused his body to betray him, and Tony could feel himself start to get hard. Tony couldn't believe it when Gibbs misinterpreted his hesitation as Tony having trouble removing his own clothes, and he reached out to help Tony open up his pants. "I've got it," he managed to say quickly, gently pushing Gibbs' hands away and then turning partially away from Gibbs, while he opened his own fly, in an attempt to hide his fledgling hard on. Unfortunately for Tony, he'd forgotten to grab the sweatpants before he'd turned away, so suddenly he found himself standing in Gibbs' bedroom, with his pants down around his ankles, wearing just a pair of tight boxer briefs and a pair of socks, his cock starting to stand at attention, with no real way to get the sweatpants that lay on the bed without having to turn around and give Gibbs the opportunity to see what was going on. There just wasn't any way for the night to get much worse, he thought, as he stood there trying to figure out how he was going to solve this newest problem.

Then his luck seemed to change. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Gibbs bend down and retrieve the sweatpants off of the bed, and hold them out to Tony. Tony gratefully reached out to accept them, hoping he was being successful in shielding Gibbs' view of his body. Getting his feet out of the pants puddled around his feet proved to be a challenge, as his balance was still less than stellar, and he dreaded what it was going to be like to put on the sweatpants, as he kicked his suit pants out of the way. Deciding there was nothing for it, Tony began to bend so that he could get a foot into the leg of the sweats. Unfortunately he overcompensated for the movement, and before he knew it, he had landed on his ass, back on the bed, with the sweatpants hooked precariously to his right foot. Great - big mouthed, horny, and graceless - way to impress the man of your dreams, he berated himself.

Gibbs didn't wait for Tony to say anything. He merely bent back over and expertly lined the pants up around Tony's feet, and started to slide them on. "Lift up your ass," he instructed Tony, when he got the waistband up to his thighs. Tony meekly complied. If Gibbs hadn't seen what was going on before, there was no way he was going to miss it now. Jr. DiNozzo had turned complete traitor, and was now pointing directly up at Gibbs' ceiling; and yet Gibbs made no comment, and his face betrayed nothing as he pulled the elastic out a little further, and slid the pants right up, over the top of Tony's cock, never even grazing the head. Not that Tony saw that, however. He'd closed his eyes in total humiliation when he'd raised his hips up off of the bed, so that Gibbs could position the pants. "Hold up your arms," he heard Gibbs instruct. Tony just submissively obeyed, never bothering to open his eyes, as Gibbs pulled the t-shirt over his outstretched arms, slid it over his head, and then drew it down over Tony's torso.

"Time for one of these pills now," Gibbs told him. This time Tony had to open his eyes, so that he could see to receive the pill that Gibbs was efficiently shaking out of the bottle Ducky had left on the bedside table. "Here," Gibbs said, holding out the pill and the glass of water he'd gotten earlier. Wordlessly Tony reached for them, and somehow managed to swallow down the pill and a gulp of water without choking, although he splashed water down the front of him, when he jumped because of a voice coming from the doorway.

"I'm going to bed," Jackson Gibbs called into the room. "Don't worry about things downstairs, I can shut everything up."

"Thanks. Night Dad," Gibbs called to his father.

"You fellows try to get some sleep," the elder Gibbs instructed, and then he grasped the doorknob, and pulled the door shut behind him.

Suddenly Tony felt even more vulnerable. Not only was he alone with Gibbs, his secret completely out of the bag, and still pointing skyward, but they were now they were shut in behind closed doors, so that there was no chance anyone could hear what was going to be said next. Tony shut his eyes again, figuring this was when Gibbs was going to lash into him, so he was more than a little surprised when nothing was said, and he could hear Gibbs moving away from the bed. Despite his sense of dread, Tony's innate curiosity got the better of him, and he opened his eyes to see what Gibbs was up to. Gibbs had gone back over to the dresser, and was pulling out another pair of sweatpants. "What are you doing?" Tony couldn't resist asking.

"Not gonna sleep in my clothes," Gibbs told him. Tony closed his eyes again, when Gibbs started to undress. The last thing he needed right now was to get a glimpse of an almost naked Gibbs. He wasn't sure how he could humiliate himself further, but wasn't willing to risk the chance that it might just be possible. Because of that, he didn't see when Gibbs crossed back over to the bed, and began to pull the covers down on the other side.

Again, all he managed was the brilliant question, "What are you doing?"

"Pulling the covers down. I don't plan on sleeping on top of them, and don't advice you to either," Gibbs told him.

"You're sleeping here?" Tony managed to squeeze out.

"Had intended to. Not a lot of other options. I told you about the guest room. You got a problem with it, Tony?" Gibbs asked, as he yanked hard on the covers, pulling them down on Tony's side, too.

"No, no problem, Boss," Tony squeaked.

"Prefer it if you didn't call me Boss when we're in bed," Gibbs told him.

"Yes Boss," Tony answered automatically, and then immediately tried to correct himself. "I'm sorry," he started, only to remember that Gibbs didn't like apologies. "I mean, won't happen again. I mean, of course it won't happen again. It's not like we're ever going to have to share a bed again. Not that that's a bad thing. There's nothing wrong with sharing a bed; I just mean I won't ever have to bother you like this again. Oh God. What I really mean is…."

"Tony, maybe you should shut up before you dig a hole all the way to China," Gibbs suggested.

"Yes Boss, shutting up now," Tony said, and then realized with horror that he'd just started the whole thing up, all over again, so he was totally unprepared when Gibbs snorted with laughter. If Gibbs was laughing, maybe he wasn't as repulsed by him as Tony had feared.

Deciding he might do well to take advantage of Gibbs' inexplicable good mood, Tony stuttered, "Listen Gibbs, about what I said earlier, and what just happened." He managed to be very careful to make sure he didn't say Boss. "I know you don't like apologies, but I really am sorry. I'll be out of your hair first thing tomorrow morning, and if you want me to request a transfer, I'll completely understand."

"I wouldn't like that," Gibbs told him.

"Huh?" Tony asked, sure that he'd misheard Gibbs.

"I said, I wouldn't like that, and we'll see about whether you're going anywhere tomorrow, other than to the bathroom and then right back into this bed. Now shut up and go to sleep. We'll talk about this more tomorrow, when you're thinking more clearly," Gibbs said, and then as Tony watched in stunned disbelief, Gibbs reached over and pulled the covers up over him, and then leaned over further, until his body was completely covering Tony's, so that he could switch off the lamp that was sitting on the table beside Tony. Before Tony could completely register on what had just happened, Gibbs had moved back to his own side of the bed, and was burrowing deeper under the bedding. "Night Tony," Gibbs said.

"Good night," Tony responded, completely on autopilot. There was no way he was going to ever be able to go to sleep, he told himself. This was like an episode from " The Twilight Zone". He was still trying to figure out what was going on, when he felt his eyes start to get heavier. Maybe when he woke up, this would all make sense, he told himself, as the room started to get fuzzy. The last thing he was really aware of, before he lost his battle with sleep, was the lyrics of some Christmas song, _"When we finally say goodnight, How I'll hate going out in the snow; But if you really hold me tight, all the way home I'll be warm"._

"Tony. Tony wake up just a little," a voice next to his ear was saying.

"Go away," he mumbled, and snuggled even tighter against the warm body he was draped over.

"Tony. I need you to answer just a couple of questions, then you can go back to sleep," the voice insisted.

"Don't wanna," Tony mumbled, burying his face against the chest his head was resting on.

"Just tell me what year it is and who the president is, then I'll leave you alone," the voice pushed.

"2009, Obama," Tony managed to answer.

"That's real good," the voice said approvingly. "Go on back to sleep."

Tony didn't bother answering , although he did make a little humming sound when he felt a strong arm circle round his shoulder and hug him tighter against the warm body he was resting on.

"_I don't care about the presents underneath the tree, I just want you for my own, More than you could ever know, Make my wish come true, All I want for Christmas is you.…" _the music in Tony's head crooned, as it pulled him back down, deeper into slumber.

"Tony," he could hear the voice saying again, but he didn't pay too close attention, since there was a hand gently cording through his hair.

"Tony, tell me where you work," the voice demanded softly.

"NCIS, Washington D.C." Tony answered without really thinking, as he turned his head slightly, causing the fingers in his hair to whisper across his cheek. "Mmmm," he purred in enjoyment, when the fingers slid off his face and ghosted across the back of his neck.

"_That I wish you Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, too. I've just one wish, On this Christmas Eve, I wish I were with you…." _Tony drifted back to sleep again.

The next time Tony woke up, it wasn't because the voice was badgering him to answer a question again. As a matter of fact, Tony wasn't sure why he'd awakened, and at first, he wasn't even really sure where he was. He just knew he was warm, and comfortable, and felt completely safe. He was snuggled up tight against a warm body, and he could feel an arm around him, holding him securely in place. He realized the person he was cuddling with was asleep, based on the gentle, even, sound their breath was making as they softly exhaled; not really a snore, but not as quiet as a person breathed when they were awake.

Where in the hell was he, and whose bed was this, he wondered, not wanting to move and risk waking the person up until his brain was less foggy. There was nothing more embarrassing than waking up next to a person whose name you couldn't recall. Not that he'd done that lately, but it had happened a time or two in his past, and it never ended well. He didn't remember drinking too much the night before, but the dull ache in his head suggested that he might have. Tony redoubled his efforts to sort out where he was and what had happened. Then it all started coming back to him. The tree, the deer, his car, Santa's house, Gibbs, Gibbs's bedroom, his erection, and finally, Gibbs' bed. Oh dear God, he thought, he was in Gibbs' bed, and that meant the person he was presently snuggled up against had to be Gibbs, he realized with a start! He immediately began to try to extract himself gently from Gibbs' grasp, but his jerk of realization must have wakened the older man up, because he felt Gibbs' hold on him tighten, effectively trapping him in the position he was already in.

"You're finally awake," Gibbs said.

"Uh huh," Tony said quietly, not trusting himself to say more. The only good thing about the position he was in, was that his head was pressed into Gibbs' shoulder, so it would be impossible for the man to see the panic that Tony knew was written all over his face.

"Wasn't sure when you'd wake up for real. I've been up a couple of times, and you never really seemed to do much more than stir a little," Gibbs told him.

He couldn't just lie there mute, he knew, so finally he managed to ask, "What time is it?"

He could feel Gibbs move a little. Probably looking over at a clock beside the bed, he realized. "Eleven o'clock," Gibbs told him.

"In the morning?" Tony asked in stunned disbelief.

"Yeah, in the morning," Gibbs chuckled. "Guess that pill Ducky left for you really did its job."

"Mm hmm," Tony agreed.

"Do you need to get up? Go to the head?" Gibbs asked him.

"Not yet," Tony answered, still trying to figure out exactly what was going on, and how they'd ended up in this position.

"You awake enough to talk about a couple of things?" Gibbs asked him, and still he didn't move his arm.

'I guess," Tony stammered. He was completely confused. This was exactly how he'd dreamed about waking up, although he'd never thought there was a snowball's chance in hell of it ever coming true, and now that he found himself in this position, he had absolutely no clue as to how to deal with it.

"What you said last night, at Thomas' house, made me really think about things," Gibbs told him. "You never hinted that you felt that way before. And there's Rule Number Twelve to consider." Gibbs' voice trailed off.

"Yeah, I know," Tony answered quickly. "Listen, maybe we can just forget about the whole thing. No harm, no foul, right?" he said softly, as he tried to wriggle out from underneath Gibbs' arm again.

"See, that's the thing," Gibbs said, refusing to let Tony pull away. "I've been thinking about it all night, and I don't think I can forget about it."

And once again, Tony found himself at a loss for words, but apparently Gibbs wasn't.

"When I woke up, and we were lying like this, it was all I could think about. I thought about it all night, while you slept. I thought about it this morning, when I went down to have breakfast. I tried to tell myself all the reasons this would never work, and yet I couldn't seem to shake the feeling that it was somehow right. Finally I even shocked the hell out of myself, and brought the subject up with my father." Gibbs fell silent.

This is it, Tony told himself. This is when he explains to me why this can't happen, and then asks me to transfer to another team.

"You know what he said? He told me I always try to make things too complicated. He asked me if I cared about you, since it sure looked that way to him. When I said that I did, he asked if I had any reason to suspect that you felt the same way. I told him that I thought you did. Then he told me I was an idiot, and asked me what the problem was, then. I told him about Rule Number Twelve, and he just laughed. Said that was my rule, and I had way too many of them. Then he pointed out that all rules were made to be broken." Gibbs' voice drifted off again. Tony realized he was holding his breath. Gibbs never talked this much, and he was afraid to say a thing, for fear the older man would stop.

After a few moments, Gibbs started up again. "When I didn't say anything, he asked me if the real problem was the fact that you were a man. Here's the weird thing; until he asked me that, I hadn't even really thought about it."

Now Tony didn't have a clue as to what to say.

"I'm not gonna lie to you. That realization really made me stop and think again. It's not like you would be my first man, Tony. I was in the Marines for years. We might not ask, and we never tell, but that doesn't mean we didn't do. But I'm not prepared to live my life in some closet, hiding how I feel from everyone, for fear they disapprove."

When Gibbs fell silent again, and it became clear he wasn't going to say anything more, Tony was finally forced to tilt his head up and look at Gibbs' face, so he could have some idea as to what he was thinking. What he found was Gibbs looking down at him, with that same expression he'd seen on his face a couple of times the night before, that expression that Tony couldn't decipher.

"So, what did you decide?" he finally had to ask Gibbs, his need to know outweighing his fear of Gibbs' answer.

"This," Gibbs said, as he let go of Tony's shoulder. Tony closed his eyes, not wanting Gibbs to see the disappointment in them. He was trying to come up with some graceful way of saying that he understood, and that it didn't really matter, when he felt Gibbs shift position, and he slid off of Gibbs' body and sunk down against the mattress. Before he could really readjust, Gibbs' lips pressed firmly against his own, and both his arms came up to hold Tony's face securely in place. Tony gave himself over completely to the kiss, opening his mouth to allow Gibbs' tongue entrance, marveling at how perfectly their mouths seemed to fit together. The kiss was just like Gibbs, Tony thought, as it went on and on – direct, demanding, unequivocal, and hot – the kiss was so damned hot. It was so much better than anything he'd ever imagined, and he'd imagined innumerable ways that Gibbs would kiss him. Tony let himself sink deeper and deeper, and finally, long before he was ready, it was over. If he'd been capable of rational thought, he would probably have been embarrassed by the pitiful little whimper he made when Gibbs lifted his mouth off of his, but as it was, all he could do was lie there and revel in what had just happened.

"There'll be lots of time for more later, when you're better," Gibbs told him, as he repositioned himself again, settling himself down beside Tony and drawing the younger man to him. When Tony rolled towards Gibbs, he looked around the room for the first time since he had woken up. There, in the corner of the room, secured by an old metal stand, stood his tree.

"You brought in my tree," he exclaimed.

"Couldn't let it dry out and die. After all, if you hadn't decided to go play lumberjack, I might never have gotten the best Christmas gift ever," Gibbs told him, pressing another kiss to the top of Tony's head.

"You're not planning on mounting the deer's head on the wall, over the bed are you?" Tony asked him.

"I hadn't thought about that, but now that you mention it…" Tony stretched up and stopped Gibbs from saying more with a kiss. It had turned out to be a pretty wonderful Christmas after all. Christmas trees, a reindeer, Santa Claus, and the granting of one very special Christmas wish.

"_So let's make a Christmas wish together, Let's hope the best of dreams come true. Let's make the spirit last forever, This is my Christmas wish for you."_

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to one and all. And may the New Year be truly joyous for you and yours!


End file.
